Feeling Wild

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Of recent I have been pondering what it means when something is ‘wild’ and what it is we experience in ‘the wild’. The word ‘wild’ has an attractiveness of late, a trendy currency, with many television programmes and articles featuring the word in their titles. If you watch such programmes you can expect scenes of extreme environments and their survivors, be they vegetative, animal or human, pushed to their limits. Though these are undoubtedly wild scenes they are there for our entertainment, usually from the warm, safe comfort of a sofa, sheltering us from any true experience of ‘the wild’. And yet does leaving the sofa in order to experience the wild mean going to the extremes? I think there is more to the meaning of ‘wild’ than perhaps such television programmes suggest…is it really just about extreme conditions or is ‘wildness’ something we can experience on our own doorsteps?

Our own doorsteps, if you live, like me, in a suburban place like St Albans, are not places that necessarily conjure up images of wildness in the mind. Instead, more often, they are fully domesticated scenes, even sanitised, designed for safety and security, for routine and predictability. Paths are marked, areas mapped and signed with noticeboards and hi-viz worn even, oddly, off road. Nature is pushed to the margins and squeezed into the small pockets inbetween. Human activity in this environment tends to be routine and predictable and can be neatly classified by purpose: driving to work, walking the dog, returning from work and so on. There is not much room for ambiguity or uncertainty – in shops we are prompted to move towards a decision, we walk well-marked paths with places and times to cross, a simple dog turd threatens major disruption. Small children, the most likely to ‘run wild’, are carefully strapped in and guided along safe paths.

While all of this is understandable and necessary, I wonder if we have lost the ability to ‘run wild’ ourselves and have become disconnected from the places where we could do so, even if we had the inclination? Out walking we are never just wandering for its own sake, but walking with purpose: ‘walking the dog’, ‘burning off excess calories’ or maybe ‘going for a walk in the park’ – a finite place, so the walk is pre-defined with a clear beginning and end. To wander, to ramble, to walk without some higher explanation other than to simply ‘be’ runs the risk of being viewed with suspicion. “Where is his dog? What is he doing?”…and then, with relief: “Oh! He has binoculars, he must be birdwatching!” I empathise with Richard Mabey when he says, “I am beginning to be looked at as if I had just jumped out of a bush – or was just about to jump into one.”![1]

While it is possible that these are just the insecurities of a minority, including me, they nevertheless hint at a limiting of ourselves by our ordered, domesticated environment that precludes an experience of something quite opposite: the unknown, the untamed, the unsafe…the wild. I think there is something in most of us, maybe all of us, that is drawn by the idea of ‘the wild’ and ‘wildness’. Maybe it is simply that ‘the wild’ represents a kind of freedom form the hum drum, the confines of health and safety, of routine and predictability? I relate to what George Monbiot describes as his ‘ecological boredom’: he says, “Somehow – I am not quite sure how it happened – I had found myself living a life in which loading the dishwasher presented an interesting challenge”[2]. Monbiot goes on to suggest that what is needed is nothing short of a ‘rewilding’ of not just the places we live in but of our very selves too. I find myself agreeing with him. I think there is a latent longing deep within the human spirit, perhaps a genetic memory, for something more raw and fresh, more elemental and basic, of a life more connected to nature.

I think this, at least in part, is what draws me out of my suburban comfort into the surrounding countryside and green spaces around. While I know they can never rival the truly wild places on earth they nevertheless offer glimpses of wildness, links with the wild, rooted in the same resourceful and resilient DNA, living to the rhythm – not of the 9 to 5 day – but to the seasons of the earth and vulnerable to the elements and whatever change or catastrophe accompanies them. This search for the wild on the doorstep has led me to break with routine, walk off the path and search out the less visited places in the hope that I will experience a remnant of the wild and in turn feel connected in my core and maybe be ‘rewilded’ in the process.

To be continued…

[1] R Mabey, A Brush with Nature, BBC Books (2010)

[2] G Monbiot, Feral, Penguin (2014)


3 thoughts on “Feeling Wild

  1. This blog reminds me very much of Simon Barnes’ book and writings – do you know them? He has many similar thoughts. He lives not far from me and his son went to my children’s primary school. He also writes in the RSPB magazine, if you are a member!!
    I feel very pleased to be in the wild where I live.. my carpet fitter questioned me when we first moved here three years ago- What do you wanna live out here in the boon docks for then?? Well that was obvious to me- to be amongst and connected to nature- both me and my children, who can run about in their own wilderness- one that I knew and cherished from my own childhood.

    • I haven’t read Simon Barnes stuff – is he the same Simon Barnes who got sacked from The Times recently for upsetting the powers that be? If so, I must read his stuff! And carpet-fitters! Well, all the best carpets are laid outside on the woodland floor!

      • Btw thanks again for the hare photo but decided not to use it this time – it looked much better in your post anyway! My first column comes out on Thursday in the local paper here which is exciting!

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